Simple Pleasures For Simple Minds
by T-Bisqit
Summary: FINISHED::
1. 13 Steps

**Hiya!!! **This is my FIRST Beyblade fanfic!!! I hope you like it!! Now for the disclaimer.....

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Beyblades!!... I do own this cheese and mustard sandwich though...Anyways....on with the fic!!!

**Prologue**

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A look of pure horror took over the face of _young _Kai Hiwatari. His crimson coloured eyes followed the head of his best friend as it went _bumpity, bumpity, bumpity _down the thirteen steps of his front porch. Kai's eyes narrowed when he heard the unmistakable laughter of his grandfather.

He watched his grandfather from the top of the stairs. Kai recognized the look on his face. The _triumphant_ smirk he always wore when he had destroyed yet another thing that Kai held dear. Kai heard another _evil _laugh escape his grandfather's mouth and saw him disappear into the night, leaving him to grieve over his fallen friend _alone_.

Kai was released from the mental hospital _just_ three days ago and had been staying at his best friend's house. Rei Kon the naive, amber-eyed, fun-loving Neko-jin, now, reduced to a mangled mess at the bottom of the porch steps. To the left of Kai, the murder lay bloodied on the floor beside Rei's _headless_ body. To his right rested the body of Rei's father.

Not paying any attention to the river of blood _pooling_ towards him, Kai sank to his knees and buried his head in his hands.

The following day, the police and paramedics arrived at the gruesome scene. They had found Kai at the bottom of the steps holding the _disfigured _head of Rei Kon in one hand and a hairbrush in the other. His eyes had taken on a blank appearance and his hair looked wild. His clothes reeked of bodily fluids and were drenched with blood. A woman in a paramedic's uniform covered his thin shoulders with a blanket. She leaned close to Kai's ear and asked him what he was doing. Kai looked her straight in the eye and said that he was simply_ detangling the knots in Rei's black, blood soaked tresses._

_End of Prologue _

_**Whew!! That took me a while to write. I know it's short but the next chapter will be longer, I promise. There will be a next chapter for sure if you REVIEW!!! Ya so I hope you guys liked that chapter...and make sure to REVIEW!!!...I know I just said that! I have this weird tendency to repeat myself....**_

**- T-Bisqit**


	2. Limericks

**Hiya!!! **It's me again. This is chapter two and like I promised, it's longer. A little bit of a warning though...this chapter is kind of graphic. Enjoy!!!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Beyblade!!

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**Chapter 2: Limericks **

Voltaire Hiwatari sat in his favourite chair reading the front page of the newspaper with a silly grin on his face. The heading read '_Father and Son Brutally Murdered_'. Inside the article it read; '_Kai Hiwatari was found latched onto Rei Kon's bodiless head. It is believed that he may have witnessed the murder..._' Voltaire rolled his eyes and picked his notebook up off the coffee table.

The _silly_ grin reappeared when Voltaire thought about the funny look on his grandson's face as his best friend's head _bounced_ down the stairs. His smile showed off his white _crooked_ teeth and caused his eyes to _crinkle _under the strain. The Russian man was well over forty- five but was still in tip top shape. He was also a murderer with no conscience, an emotionless _bastard_. He didn't care about his little _orphaned_ grandson, Kai. _Hell_, he was the one who had killed Kai's mother. Kai had been about _six_ years old at the time.

Kai had been playing outside and came in the house to hang his jacket in the closet. When he had opened the closet however, he found his mother _dangling_ from a hook with a rope tied _tightly_ around her neck. Her face had been_ bloody _and flies had started to swarm around the huge gash in her forehead. Behind her body written in blood were the words, '_nightie night bitch _'.

Kai had run to his grandfather, tears streaming down his face and blubbering that his mother was dead. '_Nonsense,'_ Voltaire had said, _'Your mother was behaving badly so I decided that she just needed to take a long nap to calm down'. _Of course since this is Voltaire we are talking about, he was able to convince the authorities that she committed _suicide._ It wasn't long after his daughter's death that Voltaire had his grandson shipped off to a mental hospital with the complaint that Kai kept waking up in the middle of the night, _screaming_.

Now, after five_ long_ years, Kai had been let out of the mental ward only to witness the murder of his best_ friend_. (**A/N**: **how ironic!**) Voltaire let out a_ humourless_ laugh, which was probably the worst thing to hear. Even _worse_ than that, when Voltaire killed people, especially those close to his grandson, he always felt that murdering people was _funny_. He even wrote a limerick in his notebook about it:

_Why did I hack off his head with a sword?_

_I can put it all into one word_

_I did it because you see,_

_It was meant to be_

_At least now I'm no longer bored _

Besides killing people, limericks were Voltaire's _passion_. With some folks it was computer games, books or beyblading but Voltaire Hiwatari's sole leisure time activity was composing limericks, when he wasn't feeling_ blood-thirsty_ mind you. Mrs. Hiwatari, or Claire as most people knew her as, looked down on her husband for that very reason. She had better things to do in her spare time, like _collecting_ and _counting _blackmail money.

Whenever Claire saw her husband sitting in his easy chair with his notebook, composing limericks, she would say, '_Simple pleasures for simple minds'. _That had always gotten him riled up, _simple pleasures for simple minds. _How many times had he heard her say it? Five thousand? Ten thousand? Something along those lines.

Every time he heard his wife say it, he would always recite a limerick to himself, which he composed:

_The disposal of Claire's remains_

_Was indeed a puzzle quite strange_

_Not even the flue_

_Was overlooked for a clue_

_But all they could find was her brains_

Lately his wife's remarks had been aggravating him so much that the limerick he usually recited to himself had turned into more violent verses, such as:

_The maid's scream split the air_

_When she found the remains of Miss Claire_

_There were flesh chunks and ooze_

_In her clothes, in her shoes_

_And puddles all over the stairs_

That night, he made up another one though it was a tad more imaginative:

_There once was a woman named Claire_

_Who lived at the top of the stairs_

_She was given a squid_

_For only five quid_

_And it strangled her then and there_

And believe it or not, it wasn't only in these imaginative poems that Voltaire pictured his wife dead. He began to think of ways to accomplish such. Ways to make his limericks, starring Claire, a reality.

The next night went the same way it usually went. Voltaire sat in his chair thinking about ways to murder his wife, even as she was rummaging around in the kitchen, making indigenous wifely noises. What he didn't know was that Claire was searching for the biggest, sharpest butcher knife they owned, because she had her own plans for the man she had been married eighteen years to.

Oh and here she comes, walking up behind him on tiptoe, and-_WHOOPS! _She's tripped on the edge of the rug. But things like that always work out for the best because Claire fell with both hands clutching the knife and didn't chicken out although she felt the urge to, and probably would have.

Voltaire was always calling her names and saying she was a fraidy cat. Had Voltaire, Lord Hiwatari, ever chickened out? No he hadn't. Not even when Shouyu Kon, Rei's father, threatened to call the police because he didn't have enough money to pay blackmail. He had threatened to tell the whole story. In Voltaire's mind, if anyone wanted to spread the word that he was an ex-convict they could go ahead but either way, little Kai needed money for an operation. Knowing this of course, Shouyu wouldn't give Voltaire the money even if he had it.

But Voltaire was adamant, and didn't chicken out. Not even when Shouyu pulled out a sword with '_Drigger' _embedded on it and attempted to stab him. He hadn't chickened out. No siree! Voltaire had simply grabbed Kon's boy, grabbed his Drigger blade, and lopped off Rei's head with one chop. It rolled across the floor, out the front door and down the porch steps, _bumpity, bumpity, bumpity._ Thirteen times. Shouyu sure had a great taste in weapons. But that had cost him his son's life as well as his own because not long after Rei was killed, Voltaire stabbed Shouyu with the Drigger blade, dropped the weapon beside Kai, and left the property.

Well, likewise Claire wasn't about to chicken out now, not with her 190 pounds falling thirty-two feet per second right on top of Voltaire. The worst part of it was that a split second before she connected, Voltaire had turned around and saw her coming at him. He had been given enough time to let out a startled gasp before the blade plunged into his heart, and went straight through his spine.

_He'll never write another limerick or kill anybody ever again, _Claire told herself. Her husband looked back at her with outraged surprise. He looked so funny that she had to laugh. But Voltaire Hiwatari would never talk, no more than his crimson-eyed grandson when he saw his mother covered in blood hanging from a hook in the closet.

Now Claire had to make her husband's death look like an accident, and that was the easy part. She sat Voltaire back in the chair and placed gun-cleaning supplies around him. She stood his favourite shot gun between his legs to make it look as though he had been cleaning it. She then loaded the gun and placed his hands on either side of the trigger, aiming for his chest. Claire pulled the trigger and averted her eyes.

Now, no one would ever find the whole in Voltaire's chest made by a butcher knife, because Voltaire doesn't have a chest anymore.

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**MrsKaiHiwatari: **ummm ya...I probably shouldn't have killed Rei but Kai and him are really good friends and I thought it might make the story more angsty. But if I make a story where somebody has to die, I'll take your advice and make it Tyson or Kenny who dies. Don't worry I'm a major Kai fan too so I won't make him do anything incredibly stupid.

**Shaman Queen Lee: **lol! For this story, yes it's necessary for Kai to be crazy...you'll understand near the end. He's not really crazy but just...mentally off-balance.

**PaleBlue: **awwww thank you!! I'm glad you find my story interesting. Voltaire...well I've tried to make him less evil but...It's just not possible!!! lol!

**WoLfSpIrItStorm: **to make up for my extra short prologue, I did an extra long chapter one !!

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**_I hope you guys are satisfied with the length of this chapter. So what did you think? Did you like it? The next chapter WILL be a short one, just so you know. I'm warning you now. It might be the same length as the prologue. And don't forget to review_**


	3. The Funeral

**Hiya!!! **It's me again. This chapter didn't turn out like I hoped it would but...hopefully you guys will like it. Just a little warning, Kai is a bit crazy in this chapter. Well...enjoy!!!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Beyblade!!

**--------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 3: The Funeral **

Not many people had attended the funeral. Claire was there, crying her fake tears because she was, after all, the wife of a dead man, a widow. Everyone offered their condolences. Some even invited her over for dinner but Claire accepted none of their invitations and claimed to have _other _plans for the evening.

_They _assumed she would be mourning the loss of Mr.Hiwatari, when she was actually thinking of celebrating. But of course, she wouldn't dare say such a thing in front of those people. It would spoil her_ perfect_ reputation as the _perfect _wife.

Amongst the weeping relatives and family friends that did attend the funeral was Kai Hiwatari, presenting a single rose plucked from an adjacent grave at Voltaire's coffin. Claire didn't know much about her grandson but her friends had somehow talked her into speaking with him. She _shuddered_ from the thought. Claire_ hated _children. The case with her grandson was no different.

Claire approached the bluenette_ slowly_. In her opinion, Kai appeared quite dirty and uncared for. Not that it mattered to her but, she had a reputation to maintain. Claire took a deep breath, a few steps and embraced her grandson. _Instantly_, she recoiled. He smelt like he hadn't taken a bath in weeks.

"_Is there something wrong grandmother_?"

Claire visibly flinched. Kai had spoken in an icy tone very different to his regular voice.

"_How did he die_?" Kai pressed.

When he received no answer he went on and asked another question,

"_Are you proud of what you did_?"

Claire had had enough. She looked him straight in the eye and observed that it had taken on a blank appearance, and his hair looked wild.

"_Quiet", _Claire hissed.

"_Did I strike a nerve there, grandmother_?" Kai replied coolly.

'This kid is crazy', Claire thought to herself.

Still, Claire forced a smile and tried to casually walk away from her grandson to her group of friends under the tree shading her husband's casket. When they had asked her what happened, she quickly stole a glance at Kai and explained that he was feeling depressed about his grandfather's death so he needed some time alone. That convinced them but they didn't know she was lying. She had lied only because she didn't want anyone to know that a little kid had freaked her out. It would've been quite embarrassing.

When Claire turned her head again in Kai's direction, expecting him to still be there, he was gone. 'Weird', she thought, and then turned back to continue her meaningless conversations with her friends.

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Kai slowly made his way back to the Kon's empty house; head down and crimson eyes blank. No one had made an effort to clean up the blood on the stairs and hallways of the Kon house. Well, it wasn't that no one made an effort, Kai just wouldn't let anybody.

They tried explaining that it wasn't healthy to leave the house filthy but Kai wouldn't hear any of it. He insisted that by leaving the house the way it was, it was almost as if Rei and Shouyu Kon were still alive. He claimed to be able to _feel _their presence.

Of course the town thought that was pure nonsense and sent in a cleaning crew to the house. Kai had a fit when he saw them. He ended up injuring nine of the eleven in the crew. The other two got away with a verbal lashing though the others weren't as lucky. One of them was even hospitalized. After that incident, everybody pretty much left Kai alone. They would throw sympathetic looks in his direction every time they saw him. Though it was suppose to make him feel better, Kai wound up just feeling more pathetic. He hated when people felt sorry for him.

Kai preferred to be alone though. It was better that way. Obviously, he missed the Kon's company but felt that if he was alone, nothing could go wrong.

Grabbing Rei's old comb, Kai snuggled up into a tight ball and fell asleep at the bottom of the stairs. Kai didn't mind that the brush had gotten dirty, though the dried blood and hair intertwined in its bristles did get kind of annoying. In fact, Kai found it strangely comforting.

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When the funeral ended, Claire went home and treated herself to a sleeping pill, alongside a dry martini. She read herself to sleep with a travel guide on _Hawaii_, secure in the belief that she'd seen the last of Voltaire Hiwatari and his limericks. This was only what she _thought, _but of course she hadn't seen the last of him. No, that _would_ be too simple, and _nothings_ ever that simple.

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**_Yupp, yupp, yupp!! That was chapter 3!! I hoped you enjoyed it. I didn't really like the way I wrote it but hopefully y'all will see it different than I do. The next chapter has Max and Tyson in it. They don't have a major role in the plot but a role none the less. So, look out for the next chapter and don't forget to review!!!_**

**_- T-Bisqit_**


	4. Alive!

**Hiya!!! **It's me again, back with chapter 4 this time. I actually like the way I did this chapter and I hope you guys will like it too!! Well...enjoy!!!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Beyblade!!

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'**Before the corpse of a murdered man can come back to take revenge on its killer, there is one condition that must be fulfilled. The body must _not_ be embalmed.'**

**-Joseph F. Pumilia**

**Chapter 4: Alive **

A light snow fell from the sky of Northern Japan, spreading a thin white blanket over the cemetery kept by kindly old Mr. Dickenson, the _undertake_r. Of course Mr. Dickenson, being an undertaker, had seen many dead bodies in his career, but never one so _absent- chested_. In other words the body didn't have much left of its chest.

He decided that Voltaire Hiwatari was just too far gone to be _embalmed_. There was just no point in it now. The ceremony was a closed casket one, and even if the body was pumped with embalming fluid it would only _leak _out of the hole in its chest. That sort of fluid is pretty expensive especially if you were _poor_, like Mr. Dickenson.

So, the undertaker didn't embalm Lord Hiwatari. He simply stuffed_ cotton balls_, sawdust and mothballs (_to keep him smelling fresh_) into the little hole in his chest and_ sewed_ him up. Then Mr. Dickenson sealed the casket with an air tight seal and checked to make sure it was_ doubly_ locked.

Having it doubly locked was necessary because when an _un-embalmed _body was sealed in an airtight casket, the pressure of the gases of decomposition tends to build up, and sometimes the coffin would _explode_. Mr. Dickenson, a once _arduous_ student of the history of undertaking, was well aware of what_ could_ happen.

But he also was aware that the funeral was going to be a quick one and there wasn't really a chance for Voltaire to _decay_ to any greater extent before he buried under six feet of_ heavy_ dirt.

The undertaker left a note for the _two _grave diggers working at the cemetery. Before he shut the graveyard gate, Mr. Dickenson looked back _worriedly_. The grave diggers were two _fresh-out-of-high school _boys who had been looking for an _easy-paying_ job. They weren't very smart and were always getting in trouble for _drinking _while on the job.

'_Hopefully not tonight_,' Mr. Dickenson thought warily and then shut the gate behind him and trotted home. Two minutes later, two boys staggered on the scene. The blonde wasn't as drunk as the other boy so he was able to read the note left for them on the casket.

"_Max", _drawled the voice of the other boy. His long navy blue hair stuck to his face. The blonde's head swiveled in the direction of his dark-haired companion. He was slouched over on one of the gravestones, headfirst.

"_Tyson, are you O.K_?" Max's own voice was slurred and they were both feeling a little tipsy.

_**THUD!**_

Tyson had _passed_ out. Max's blue eyes scanned the area to see if anyone had been watching them. '_Aw crap_' he thought to himself. He looked at the casket and decided; what the hell, who's gonna know? And so, Max buried Voltaire's body under _two feet_ of not-so-solid earth. He then_ hauled_ Tyson, unsteadily, onto his back and left the cemetery.

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One night, about two weeks after the corpse had been buried; there was a _small_ explosion in the graveyard. It hadn't been an ear-splitting blast but sort of a small **_WHOOMP!_**

Voltaire Hiwatari looked around him and noticed that he was_ high_ up in a tree. He looked down and saw a_ black _hole.

'_How did I get here?_' he wondered. Then he remembered the last thing he had seen- Claire lunging at him with a butcher knife in both her hands. Just the thought _would've _made his blood boil- _if he had any._

Voltaire climbed down the tree and brushed off his _gold-rimmed_ grey suit. When he did that, a button _popped_ off. He bent to pick it up and noticed a tombstone with his name _engraved_ in it. The truth dawned on him; '_Why, I must be dead_'.

_And dead he was._

Naturally his heart, figuratively speaking, began to swell with thoughts of _sweet_ revenge. '_She can't do this to me_', he said to himself, '_I'll make her pay dearly_'. His maniacal laughter split the air.

Then _immediately _a limerick he made came to him, the best he had ever composed:

_The corpse returned from dead land_

_To fulfill the revenge he'd planned_

_He'd taken the knife_

_Same she'd taken his life_

_And simply cut off both her hands_

'_Don't worry wifie. I'm coming home_', the evil thought sang out in his mind. Turning towards the direction of his house, Voltaire took a step forward and ended up _flat _on his face.

_His right foot had dropped off._

'_Well what do you expect_', he mused. '_I am a rotting corpse after all_'.

Voltaire took a while with tying his foot back on with his _favourite _tie. It was his favourite because he usually wore it when he was about to commit a _murder. _

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**_Chapter 4!! Like I promised, Max and Tyson were in that chapter. I'm not sure what's going to be in the next chapter but it is going to be the final one. So, look out for it any ways and don't forget to review!_**

**_- T-Bisqit_**


	5. Bumpity, bumpity, bumpity

**Hiya!!! **I'm so sad!! This is the LAST chapter!!!........read and enjoy!!!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Beyblade!!

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**Chapter 5: Bumpity, Bumpity, Bump **

By the time Voltaire had reached _Dranzer Street, _his other foot had started showing signs of looseness at the ankle. And the damage done to his spinal tendons gave him a tendency to hunch over slightly when he walked.

His clothes weren't in good condition either because of the explosion and the colonies of _maggots _and _earthworms _in his right leg- well, it's a good thing those nerves had rotted away or he would've been in excruciating pain. Voltaire then _accidentally_ ran into a thorn bush and found that it hurt.

**Those nerves hadn't rotted!**

The worse part of all was the hacking cough he couldn't seem to get rid of. With every step he took, the irritating tickle stayed with him and his coughing fits made his body shake, sending pieces of rotten flesh flying _everywhere_. To Voltaire, it felt as though his lungs had been stuffed with sawdust and cotton balls. Although he wasn't too sure, he could've sworn his body was giving off the faint scent of _mothballs_. But of course, the rest of his body smelt like a thousand dead fishes.

A _further_ annoyance was the fact that his eyes had started decaying as well. He was able to see but everything appeared blurry, especially if what he was looking at was far away. As a result, the first house he chose had been the wrong one. Instead, drunken Tyson answered but he sobered up real quick when he saw _what_, not who, was at the door. Tyson was met with the _putrefying_ face of Voltaire Hiwatari.

His face was covered in sores and rotten flesh dripped off of the underlying tissue in yellow heaps. Tyson fainted _dead-away_ on the floor. Max came to the door, wondering what was going on, and clamped his mouth shut to stop an _ear-shattering_ scream from escaping. He stood _frozen_ in terror.

Voltaire opened his mouth to apologize but his tongue dropped to the ground. Max too, fainted, dead-away, right on top of Tyson.

_'Hopefully, those two won't be neglected to be embalmed by Mr. Dickenson'_, Voltaire said to nobody in particular.

After spending the whole night house-hunting, at the crack of dawn, Voltaire finally found the right house. It was pretty strange that Voltaire couldn't find his house; on account of his house was the _biggest_ on the block. He wasn't 100 sure if it was the right house, but was satisfied when he ripped his rotting flesh on Claire's prize rose bushes. Voltaire tried, _unsuccessfully_, to open the front door.

**It was _locked._**

He walked around the house, _remembering_ the ladder behind the garage. He paused for a moment to retrieve a loose rib that dropped from his shirt and kick the raccoon that ran off with it.

It was difficult to position the ladder beneath his wife's window since both his wrists and elbow joints were threatening to give out, but he eventually got it.

Then came the agonizing task of actually _climbing _the ladder.

Voltaire had gotten about halfway up when his wrists gave out. He found himself tangled in his wife's prize roses. The taste of such a small victory spurred him on. He suddenly remembered the spare key hidden under the useless '_welcome_' mat on the porch steps. It was useless because they never had many visitors.

Just as he was bending down, a newspaper flew in his direction.

Before he could even jump out of the way, there was a _sickening _snap and Voltaire's head flew off, on impact with the newspaper, and rolled across the driveway into a hedge against the Kon's house. Voltaire was horribly aware of all this and when his head stopped rolling, by straining his eyes, he was able to see his broken body lying beside the _Sunday_ newspaper.

The raccoon was back now. Voltaire watched _helplessly_ as it pulled loose another rib and disappeared with it. As he lay there through the night, the raccoon kept returning, bringing friends with him every time. By dawn, the body was completely disposed of except for a few scraps of skin and cloth.

_And the head of course._

For a long time, Voltaire's head laid there, unnoticed. He was still horribly conscious and spent day after day wondering how long it would be 'till he completely dissolved into dust. He wondered if it was either the bush hiding him or the now warm spring air persevering him like a mummy because by now, the raccoons must have buried all of the parts they didn't eat of his body, all over town.

It was late afternoon when Voltaire's '_favourite_' raccoon found his _hiding spot. _The raccoon sniffed at him and with brute force, kicked him away as it prepared to answer nature's call. Fortunately, Voltaire's head rolled on the lawn, near the edge of the driveway and _away_ from the raccoon.

About three hours later, a shadow fell across his non-seeing gaze. Voltaire saw two small pale hands reach down towards his head and found himself looking into the blank face of little Kai Hiwatari, his grandson. Kai's crimson eyes were as blank as the empty expression he wore on his face.

'_What's he doing here at Kon's old house? He probably still misses his friend'_. With that thought, Voltaire started to grin cruelly, but stopped instantly when Kai gave him a smile of his own.

_It was the most insane smile Voltaire had ever seen._

The way Kai was smiling _chilled _Voltaire to the bone- or what ever he had left. Voltaire tried to cry out but it was no use. His voice box seemed to be 'out of order' and his jaw muscles had turned to the consistency of old rubber _tires._

'_Where is he taking me_?' Voltaire pondered. Then he felt the vibrations as Kai walked up the stairs. He counted the jolts.

_One,_

_Two, _

_Three,_

_Four..._

_Eleven,_

_Twelve,_

_**Thirteen**._

'Now what, Oh no!' his mind screamed.

_Bumpity,_

_Bumpity,_

_Bumpity,_

_Bump..._

Thirteen times. Down the stairs Voltaire's head bounced just like a rubber ball. And it hurt because those nerves_ hadn't_ rotted away!

Then up the stairs again.

Yupp, it didn't take much to amuse little Kai.

_Bumpity,_

_Bumpity,_

_Bumpity,_

_Bump..._

Especially the way he was now.

_Bumpity,_

_Bumpity,_

_Bumpity,_

_Bump..._

Simple pleasures for simple minds.

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**_OMG!! I'm so sad!! The last chapter...in a way I'm actually relieved that it's over. It took me a REALLY long time to write. I was working on it over the summer actually. It may have seemed short but in my notebook it's pretty long. I know some of you out there may be a little angry that I killed Max and Tyson but it was vital for the plot. Come on people! Work with me here! That's the best excuse I could come up with on such short notice. Lol. I had fun writing it anyways and I hope y'all had fun reading it. Bye-bye 'till next time...and don't forget to review!_**

**_- T-Bisqit_**


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